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Warning: "continue" targeting switch is equivalent to "break". Did you mean to use "continue 2"? in /home/ineedt6/public_html/wp-content/plugins/revslider/includes/output.class.php on line 3169Topic: A letter to my fiance. Almost but no cigar, or however that expression goes. | I Need to Vent!

I have a confession. I’ve
thought about cheating on you. It was that guy in my weight training class, I
had first entertained the idea during a period where we weren’t having sex. But
it really wasn’t even about the sex or him. I never really got a lot of
attention from guys when I was a teenager, at least not the kind I wanted. I
wanted to be boldly flirted with, I wanted hot guys to notice me and back then
they never did. Now, that I’m twenty they all can’t keep their eyes off me,
well most of the time, and this guy made me his target, his goal to win me
over. I even lied to him saying I was married thinking he would back off. It
didn’t work; he came on even stronger and tried making moves on me more
frequently. I must admit though I almost couldn’t help myself being swooned by
his bright smile, fit physique, and confidence. Mostly his confidence. I feel
so guilty. I hate seeing these secrets typed out in front of me, it feels so
dirty and yet liberating. Nothing real has even happened between me and this
guy. One time he caught me off guard and pulled me in close to him, I think
maybe he was going to try for a kiss. I rejected him immediately, jerking my
head back to put distance between his face and mine. His hot breath on the side
of my face made me want to hurl as he continued to hold me there in an
unconsented embrace. He slowly let me go, it was obvious that it took him a
moment to process the rejection. He was so sure that he was going to get it,
that it took and extra few awkward moments for it to sink into his head past
all the hormones racing through his bloodstream. Upon the release I took a few
steps back, and upon quickly analyzing what had just taken place I was filled
with instant disgust towards myself. I’m sure my facial expressions were a
mirror of what I was feeling because when we made eye contact for a split
second he gave that deer-in-the-headlights look which was then replaced by a
half smile and he trotted off shaking his head in disbelief. Rebecca! How could
you let something like this happen?! Why did you smile when he flirted, why did
you keep talking to him? None of this would have happened if you had just
ignored his gestures from the beginning, if you had been upfront about your
disinterest in hooking up and that you just like the attention, he would have
laughed at you and moved on. But no, Rebecca didn’t do any of those things; she
just let it all happen and unfold right before her eyes, but was shocked
nonetheless when it all happened. And to top it all off, she gave him her new
phone number thinking it would be harmless even though all the while her gut
was tugging at her telling her not to, that it was a bad idea. I guess it’s
become apparent that writing about myself in the third person makes it easier
to write, I can just feel like I’m writing this all about some other dumb girl
with no self-control who was playing with fire while her real marriage was
still pending. Now comes the hard part, do I tell my fiancé? Do I crush him
with this filth? Do I break his pure little heart and flare up every little
insecurity of his that I’ve work so hard to cure? Or do I keep it a secret? A
dark little secret with which the only comfort I have is the fact that
technically nothing happened between me and this other man. But it’s like this
tiny little spore of mold inside me, not telling the complete truth, the whole
truth and nothing but the truth to my sweet betrothed and keeping silently
while it grows and feeds off of my guilt until my mind is full of black and
green fuzzy stuff. I wonder what my favorite comic book character Tank Girl
would do, even she, the grittiest and most merciless woman, still had the
decency to keep herself all for her Booga. Oh dear…………….whatever shall I do?